


Fireproof

by angelkoushi



Series: HQ Fairytale AUs [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Fluff, Is it romance, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV First Person, Romance, Soulmates, dwarf!bokuto, dwarf!konoha, elf!akaashi - Freeform, give konoha a break pls, he's just trying so hard, i'm not sure, is it friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24768589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelkoushi/pseuds/angelkoushi
Summary: When Akaashi Keiji meets Bokuto, he begins to hope against his better judgement that there is someone out there who can accept him, curse and all.When Bokuto Koutarou meets Akaashi, he felt warmth, or something akin to warmth, for the first time, and from someone his clan considers an enemy.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: HQ Fairytale AUs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796599
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Fireproof

***

Long before I was born, a curse was placed on me as a result of my father’s coldness to the weaker members of his kingdom. I suppose that’s just what wicked witches are wont to do, and it wasn’t like my father didn’t deserve it too. As his only child and apparent heir to his throne, it feels somehow justified that I would also inherit the consequences of his actions.

Not that that makes it fair at all.

When I was a toddler, I set fire to the palace by accident. Rescuers found me in the midst of dying embers, sitting in the ashes of my parents and all the servants as if they were sand. When one of them tried to touch me, he leapt back and screamed that my skin was like a furnace, and it was not because I had a fever.

I lived alone in the ghost palace for years, and people grew afraid of me. They began to look for new leaders among the other elf families, and mine eventually became history. The world moved on without me.

When I was old enough to move by myself, I stepped out of the palace for the first time, in the dead of night. I made for the mountains, living in blizzards and snow storms and the freedom of knowing I was no danger to anyone. I hunted and tried to do my part in keeping the peace of the kingdom along the borders, and soon I dulled the basic need for companionship.

The fire in my soul, cursed as it is, was all I needed to keep me warm.

And if, someday, it ends up burning me from the inside out, well—that’s the end of that.

At least, until I met him.

It was a winter midmorning, and the sun made the snow against the mountain slopes clear and blindingly white. I was keeping to myself under the shade of the trees, away from the glare, and was halfway through my freshly-cooked hunt for the day, when he stumbled along the trail.

He was brilliantly red in the face, shivering from the tips of his white hair to the soles of his boots, and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. When he spoke, his teeth chattered.

“I s-saw the f-fire, and w-wondered if m-maybe…”

I gestured to my little hearth, and he eagerly shuffled forward, eyes wide and bright. Without warning, he unsheathed his hands and plunged them right in the middle of the flames.

I almost dropped my rabbit meat.

“What are you—”

Then I realized what he was: a dwarf, obviously, but the rare sort that lives in the lowest of all underground caves. This clan has an immunity to fire, and legends say they take their baths in molten lava under the volcanic mountains.

“Ah that’s the stuff,” the cauldron dwarf hummed, probably more to himself than me. “The sun is all up in your face today but the mountain never really lets up, does it?”

I shrugged and continued eating. He turned to me, an expectant smile across his face, and I wasn’t sure if he meant for me to say something in return or share my lunch. So, I picked up another rabbit roasting over the fire and offered it to him. He grinned widely, not holding back on thanks as he ate up the fresh meat. It was as if it had not come right off the heat.

“Now I can live,” he said, cleaning off the last bits off the bone and picking scraps from between his teeth. His hands went back into the fire again, but this time he was careful not to suffocate it.

I felt the need to make conversation, but it was the oddest thing to have someone sitting right across from me who was not cowering in fear of who I am. I cleared my throat. “You seem far from home, sir.”

He chuckled. “For sure. The moment I see that blinding ball of fire in the sky, I know I’ve wandered too far.” He paused. “I got a little lost. Perhaps a ranger such as yourself would be so kind as to point me back to the nearest cave?”

So, he _doesn’t_ know about me. Peculiar. “I’m at your service, sir. I’m Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji.”

This time, there was a change in his face: his brows met a little at the center, and his lips formed a small pout. “Akaashi… Keiji… That sounds familiar…”

_There it is._

I put the last bones of my meal down and stood up, hands on my back. “If you wouldn’t mind the assistance of a lowly elf ranger, Sir Dwarf, I would be glad to show you the quickest way home at once.”

I was promptly ignored.

“Ah, I remember now! You’re that fire elf, the renegade prince, the one who burned the palace to the ground! I didn’t think I’d meet you here.”

He drew his hands away from the hearth and stood up, but instead of wearing his gloves back on, he stepped closer to me.

I felt my temper rise, and with it my skin prickled with heat. I clenched my hands behind my back. Before I could say a word, the dwarf lifted a finger to my cheek.

I reacted in impulse. My hand darted from behind me and swatted his away as I took a step back.

“What are you doing?”

The dwarf had the decency to look apologetic. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I just…”

I took the hand I hit him with in my other one, as it had become a habit when I touch something flammable. As if massaging my skin removed their temperature.

“If you have any cooling balms with you, you might want to—”

My thought process was interrupted when he lifted the hand I hit. The skin on it, tanned and rough, had no sign of a burn. Not even the slightest tinge of red.

“You _did_ see me warm my hands in the fire instead of over it, didn’t you?” he asked, tone teasing. “You of all creatures can’t hurt me, elf.”

I felt my face burn this time, but before I could get flustered, I countered, “One doesn’t go around touching people’s faces either, _dwarf_ , especially one you just met.”

He blinked, then leaned back and laughed loudly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Akaashi. I’m Bokuto Koutarou.”

He held out his hand, and I momentarily forgot that I was supposed to shake it. He took note of my hesitation and moved for the both of us: he grasped my right hand and shook it, smiling cheekily all the while. It was the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen or done, and I didn’t notice I was staring and keeping his hand in mine until he said,

“You have soft hands. As expected from an elf, I suppose.”

I immediately let go, but I knew my hand would remember the feeling of that calloused palm and rough fingertips for a very long time. I resumed my position, hands behind my back and ready to assist.

“Were you not in a hurry to head home, Sir Bokuto?”

He waved it off as he squatted back down on the ground, plunging his hands back into the flames. “You’re also as formal as elves go, Akaashi. Lighten up. I have time.”

_Strange. Dwarves are known to hate the sun and anything aboveground._

But I relented and sat myself back against the trunk of the tree behind me. It wasn’t like I was in a hurry either. I let a beat pass.

“Does that do anything for you?”

“Hm? Oh, this? A little, but the others tell me I’m imagining it. It’s sort of a tingle, like wind ghosting over my skin, but the warm kind. Or what I imagine warm to be. Does that make sense?”

I paused, then nodded. It did, somehow. “I heard you bathe in lava.”

He cackled. “So that’s what they say about us. Lava flows in deep, small crevices underground, so even if we wanted to, we can’t fit. We do, however, bathe in boiling water, heated by the lava.” I must have looked as fascinated as I felt, because Bokuto laughed again. “You’re pretty easy to read, for an elf. And a ranger at that. How old are you?”

I bristled. “How old are _you_?”

He puffed out his chest proudly. “142 winters, including this one.”

 _Damn it, he’s older._ He looked at me, both teasing and curious, that I mumbled, “104 winters.”

I cringed when he howled in laughter. “You’re a sapling, then! What happened to you? Did your noble father send you out to help you learn the ways of the world and whatnot?”

Something akin to a chill gripped my heart, and I lowered my head. “My father is dead. I killed him and the rest of my family when I was a child.”

He squeaked, and curled into what was already a stocky build. “I’m sorry, I forgot—”

“Please don’t mention it.”

The silence that fell between us was almost painful. I didn’t have anything to distract myself with now that my lunch was over, so I fiddled with my fingers instead. I don’t know how hot they feel, except they burned holes through any glove I wear and melt the ice when I fall into the snow.

I looked up at Bokuto, who was staring at the fire intently, his hands unmistakably buried among the burning wood. His hands were the first to brush off the fire from my skin.

“If it helps anyhow, I’m a sore thumb too.”

 _I really didn’t ask._ “Are you, now?” I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice. _Now you’ve done it._ “Did you kill anyone because you’re cursed too?” _Why am I even asking? He’s just trying to empathize._

He pursed his lips and his brows furrowed. “Well, no, but it’s not like anyone would come looking for me if I got lost.”

I frowned. Dwarves often travelled in groups, or at least a pair, because they are more of an overwhelming force when they’re together. Seeing one by himself is rare, and begs questioning. They’re not like elves, who often had the freedom to be detached and work alone because our physical make-up allows us more flexibility. That has always been one thing we liked to hold over the dwarves, but actually being alone has taught me that there’s more to companionship than just being with like-minded individuals.

“Akaashi.” Interrupting my train of thought yet again, Bokuto peered up at me, a brow raised. “You think too much, don’t you? I feel like you’ve tried to work out my entire life’s story from what I just said. Your face got scrunched up all focused-like, as if you disappeared for a second.”

I cleared my throat. “Begging your pardon, sir. I was just wondering why that was.”

He hummed as his face crumpled into a thoughtful frown, the sound so deep that it seemed to come from the pits of his stomach. “Seems strange to share my backstory with someone I just met.”

And that came right back at me. “You don’t have to tell me anything.” _And who was it who offered a piece of his life willingly in the first place?_

“Still,” he continued, as if I had not spoken at all, “You told me a little about yourself on your own accord, so it feels only right to return the favor.”

I stared at him, deadpan. _How did this turn into an equivalent exchange?_ But he was staring into the fire again, flexing his stubby fingers as the flames licked his skin.

“You know how we’re immune to heat, right?”

“If I had any doubts, seeing your hands in my cooking fire have surely chased them away.”

He chuckled. “Well, heat encompasses a lot of things. Sure, it means fire and lava and boiling water, but it also means warmth and compassion and all that. I’d venture as far as say that cauldron dwarves in particular are the most alike to elves in that they are as cold as they come.”

What he said about my race _was_ true, but it didn’t stop the innate irritation that came from being underhandedly insulted. No matter how factually he said it.

“Is that so?”

He nodded decidedly. “My clanmates do what they have to do, but unlike other dwarves, they get no real pleasure out of it. Shallow-ground dwarves love their treasure—they hoard gold and jewels and other things mined from underground. They have passion for such things. My clan feels nothing of the sort.”

I understood where he was getting at, as I am also not particular with being in caves for the same reason. The fire in me was enough to keep me comfortably warm in a blizzard, so being trapped in a hole suffocates me. It felt like I was being cooked alive.

“If you started feeling warmth inside of you as you do outside, it would burn you up underground.”

His eyes twinkled. “You got it.”

“It doesn’t explain why no one would come looking for you if you got lost.”

He cleared his throat. “I was just getting there. I say my clanmates have no such thing as passion, and physically, neither do I. But I can’t explain my excitement over finding a single diamond after hours of mining, or crafting a blade that was just the right heft and balance. Even excitement is a strange feeling to have. I like spending time aboveground, because having the sun beat on my face feels like me pounding on a well-shaped sword, even if I can’t exactly feel it.”

“That is a strange metaphor, indeed.”

He whirled his head to face me. “Is it? It felt profound to me…”

I shrugged. “I never said it didn’t make sense.”

The speed at which he changed emotions was nothing short of amazing. “It does make sense, doesn’t it?” And he sounded pretty proud of himself too. “Some say I must be some sort of halfling, from a cauldron dwarf and a shallow-ground.”

“Are you?”

This time, he shrugged. “I’ve no idea. My parents are dead too.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, s’alright. I barely remember them. It simply is, at this point.”

 _How lucky._ When it came to dead parents, I supposed remembering is worse off than forgetting, at any rate.

“So, your clanmates can’t understand you.”

“I can’t understand myself either, if I’m being honest. So, I kind of see what they see. One does tend to stay away from things one cannot understand.”

He shifted on his squat and fell right on his bum. I tried to hold back my laughter as he scrambled up and patted away the wet circle on his trousers. “Clumsy, clumsy,” he was saying under his breath.

As I watched him dance around the fire, trying to dry off his trousers while hovering as close as he could to the flames, I found myself intrigued. For someone who gets left behind on purpose and is not immediately sought out after, Bokuto seemed too upbeat. He’s the first cauldron dwarf I’ve ever met, so at that moment I couldn’t begin to fully comprehend them, as Bokuto seemed a poor example. Apparently, his clanmates wouldn’t even bother with a smile, much less one as warm as his.

And he’s been nothing but kind, and he didn’t look at me like I was either a charity case or the fabled monster in the mountains. That was refreshing.

His teeth were chattering again. Being out in the cold when you’re immune to heat must be quite a taxing thing.

“Sir Bokuto, as much as I enjoy your story, I fear you might freeze to death out here.” I stood up, then doused the fire with dirt. “I will escort you to the nearest cave as quickly as possible.”

“Good idea. My bum is frozen now.”

I couldn’t help it. I chuckled. The look on his face was pure wonder.

“I was wondering if you ever laughed.”

I pursed my lips as I turned away from him, and walked on. _I haven’t for a long time._

We walked side-by-side up the mountain trail. He was so close by that he could have swung his arms around my shoulders if he wanted. He really was the strangest creature I’ve ever met, yet.

All the while he regaled me with stories of the things he’s dug up, the weapons he has made, and even the friends he has met whenever he went aboveground. He looked like he was enjoying himself so much that his mood filtered in through to me, and I may have smiled a few times. He asked me a few questions about myself, but I wasn’t at all as forthcoming as he was. Nevertheless, he took even that in stride and instead filled the silence with his voice, his stories, his laughter.

I didn’t realize how we’ve walked for hours until we were at the opening of a cave that I knew went deeper than it looked, and a dwarf was waiting at the mouth.

“Bokuto.”

The dwarf beside me turned to the caller excitedly, and the caller visibly winced. “Konoha! Have you been waiting for me?”

“No, you dunce, I came to see if you were close by here.” Konoha paused. “And don’t you come up to me looking like _that_.”

Bokuto turned to me and struck his hand out again. He grinned from ear to ear. “This is where I leave you, Akaashi. Thank you for showing me the way, and for sharing your fire with me.”

I hesitated for a second, but this time, I clutched his waiting hand and shook it firmly, as I had seen him do it. “It was my duty, sir.”

When I tried to take my hand back, Bokuto gripped it harder. He kept his eyes on our hands. The air around us hummed, and gooseflesh prickled on my skin.

“Strange,” he said, sounding as if he was talking more to himself than me. “It feels as if…”

I wanted to push it, to find out what he was thinking, but I saw the dwarf Konoha turn and walk into the cave. “Sir Bokuto, your friend is leaving.”

“What?” He blinked and looked up, and I realized that his eyes were like molten gold. “Oh, sorry. Yes, I’ll go. See you again, Akaashi!”

When he turned toward the cave, the change was drastic. He slumped his shoulders, and his arms and legs dragged along. He wiped the smile from his face and put on an expression as cold as the mountain winter. Even his white hair, once spiked into two high peaks on his head, seemed to droop. He heaved a deep sigh, then sauntered along.

I stared at the cave opening long after he disappeared, then looked down at my hand. Callouses, ridges, tanned to the fingernails, which were clipped short. Even then I remembered how his hand felt against mine, as I had not known any other before.

_Is it possible…_

No. It would be too much to hope this early, and besides, it’s not like I’ll see him again.

* * *

“Akaashi!”

_How on earth did it come to this?_

Despite my better judgement, I found myself lingering close to the cave where I dropped Bokuto off. No, I didn’t camp right outside it, but I never strayed too far either and I always found myself slinking back there so often that I ended up building my tent in the woods closest to it.

And I haven’t moved since. I would have, if Bokuto didn’t come to see me at least once every three days or so.

“For someone who cannot generate warmth for himself, Sir Bokuto, you have quite the attraction to being up and about in the winter.”

He only smiled that toothy grin of his. “I would come out regardless of the season to see a friend, Akaashi.”

I heard the underlying message: _it’s not like I have friends back home._ And the way he called me ‘friend’ was not unwelcome either.

I sighed, but if I were to be completely honest with myself, I enjoyed his company. I have never had anyone constant in my life, and it didn’t help that I was orphaned before I could remember what it was like to be surrounded with others.

He still talked a lot more than I did, but in time I found myself sharing my own stories of my travels along the borders, the creatures I’ve met, and where I often hunted. Many a time he accompanied me on a hunt, and I learned that he was quite a good shot too. We soon began to compete on who could shoot down more prey, after which we would hunker back to my little campsite and share the spoils.

Sometimes he would bring good ale from home, and we would share it between us as the smoke from the campfire rose up into the star-clad sky. I only took a few sips at a time, because the taste sent shivers down my spine. Despite that, I had someone I could call a companion.

It was one of those beer-induced nights, one in which I might have drank too much, that I spoke of my curse for the first time. He didn’t ask; this time, I volunteered it.

“My father was a cruel man,” I began, “or so I was told. I only ever hear of my family from rumors, but it must be true if everyone says the same thing.”

“Mm,” Bokuto mumbled beside me. “Not always, but it bears looking into.”

“He was cruel,” I repeated. “So cruel and cold that a witch cursed him with a son that was so warm, he burned his cold father and everyone around him. Say what you want about witches, but they have a wicked sense of humor.” I giggled, which should have been a sign that I was already intoxicated.

“It’s not your fault, then,” said Bokuto matter-of-factly, as if he were saying, ‘the moon is out tonight’.

“I still burned them up, cooked them in the palace like these poor rabbits here.”

“You were barely a child then. You couldn’t have known what you were doing.”

“It doesn’t change what happened.”

This time, Bokuto nodded. “I s’pose. But it still wasn’t your fault.” After a pause, he added, “Do you think there’s a way to get rid of it?”

I scoffed. “Oh, I don’t know, let me just get back to the witch to find out. It’ll be a jiffy.”

He elbowed me with a laugh, and I elbowed him right back. “Just wanted to help.”

I sighed, almost dramatically. I knew what I was doing, but I’d already done it before I could stop myself. It’s the ale.

“No, no, it’s all in how I choose to live my life now. I just have to be content with the fact that I’m going to be a lone ranger until I die.”

Bokuto sat up so suddenly, he looked like a blur. “And what about me? Do I look like a mushroom to you?”

I frowned at him, but my body felt too heavy to sit up. “What about you? It’s not like you’ll always be here. You have a home to return to; I don’t. I move from place to place.”

“I could just as much stay out here than in the mines. I might start wanting to, if only you wouldn’t be such an ass.”

“And freeze _your_ ass off every winter?”

“You can warm me up.”

I found I was still in the right headspace to give a proper reaction to that statement. I frowned at him. “Was that some sort of innuendo?”

In the dim of the night, aided by the light of the fire, I saw Bokuto’s face burn. “No! Look, listen—”

“Choose one or the other, I’m too sleepy to do both.”

“Akaashi, you get up from there.”

He pulled me up to sit in front of him, and I swore I saw stars and felt the heavens dip. My dinner threatened to crawl back up my throat. “If I throw up all over you, it’s not my fault.”

“Akaashi.” He took my hands in his, and if my head would have been any clearer, I would have recognized how serious he looked. “Look at this, Akaashi.” He lifted our hands.

“We’ve seen that before. I can’t burn you.”

“Yes, but there’s more to it.”

I never found out what that ‘more’ was. I blinked slowly and found our faces only inches apart. The flames made Bokuto’s eyes come alive; they twinkled and swirled like two pots of liquid gold. I felt my lips curl into a lazy smile.

“Akaashi—”

“You have pretty eyes, Bokuto.”

That was the last thing I remembered before my drowsiness overtook me.

* * *

I woke up the next day inside my tent, bundled in my cloak and alone. Beyond the canvas walls, I sensed morning spreading in the woods. I sat up and felt a stab of pain through my temple. I must have drunk more than I should have, because the slightest movement made me want to throw up. Nevertheless, I hauled myself up and out to look for breakfast.

And there he was, crouched on the ground and stoking the fire with a cauldron propped up over it. Something that smelled delicious simmered inside. He turned when he heard me, and his smile made my stomach turn over in a pleasant way.

“Good morning! You look awful.”

I managed a scoff. “Good morning to you too.” I walked over and sat on one of the logs we’d sat on the previous night. “Mighty early for you to be here already, only to nurse a drunk friend.”

“I never left.”

My stomach turned over itself again. “What?”

“I just got back from a quick hunt, and I thought a stew would be perfect for what you’re feeling right now. Too much dwarf ale can pack quite a punch for a first-timer. And you drank a lot.”

That’s when I noticed how his clothes were the same as they had been yesterday, albeit a little stiff. His white hair was rumpled and droopy as if he had tossed and turned in his sleep. He tried not to show it, but he was shivering from head to toe, and he had his cloak wrapped tight around his body.

“What happened…” _When I passed out?_ I mentally chided myself for my lack of grace. Add that to the long list of things other elves would shame me for.

“After you fell asleep on me, I carried you to your tent. Wasn’t at all smooth, but you were pretty much dead to the world to notice. Though the bruises might be telling, sorry about that. And then I would have shared your bunk, but I know I’m a loud sleeper and I move around a lot. So, I tried to sleep out here, but it was too cold, so I built a fire and just watched the stars. Then I went out to hunt for breakfast at dawn, and now I’m here.”

_He hasn’t slept. He didn’t leave._

Something fluttered in my chest this time. Affection? Probably not. Maybe kinship, or gratitude. Bokuto just stayed up all night for the comfort of an elf he barely knows.

“Here, let me get that.” I smoothly took the ladle from his fingers. When he protested, I said in the firmest tone I could muster, “Go get some sleep, sir. Breakfast will be ready for you when you wake.”

“I’m fine, Akaashi.”

“Bokuto, please. For me.”

He pursed his lips into a pout, then shrugged and went inside my tent. As for me, I felt exactly like the stew in the pot: boiling over.

_What is this? I’ve never felt so… warm. Cared for. Why would he do that? Was he really just that nice?_

I took the pot off the fire and lodged it between a couple of stones before ladling a serving for myself. The warmth of it hit me right in the gut, and I felt very much refreshed. After eating a good helping, I went to the closest spring to wash myself. The frozen water was welcome after the warm breakfast, and I emerged feeling like a new elf. When I sauntered back to the campsite, I put the pot back over the fire to heat it, and before long, Bokuto was ducking out of the tent.

“Smells good,” he said, his face still sleepy and his smile giddy.

“How like a dwarf to praise his own cooking,” I teased, but I offered him a steaming bowl. Without so much as a blow, he put the bowl to his lips and gulped it all down. He helped himself to a couple more bowls before polishing it off with a satisfying burp.

“I feel great this morning.”

“Nothing like good sleep and good food,” I replied. “You can wash in the spring nearby, and I think I might have some clothes you can change into for now.”

Despite himself, he smelled his tunic and grimaced. “You should have told me to wash first.”

“I didn’t say I smelled you, it just looked like you needed one.”

I pulled out a tunic that could pass for a dress on Bokuto, but he might have to cut off the sleeves to fit his arms. He would have to reuse his trousers, but he can always change when he got home. I took a knife and sawed the sleeves off before handing the tunic to him.

“You’ll have to make do with this, but your cave is not far from here.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but thought the better of it and took the tunic with thanks. While he was away in the spring, I rebuilt the fire and set about clearing the campsite.

Then I paused.

“What on earth.”

My little campsite, with the tent and a cauldron propped over the fire ringed with stones, looked almost homey. There were two logs sitting beside each other, and two cloaks on the ground, ready to be sat on. In all my travels, I’ve only ever had my tent and a small campfire whenever I have to make camp. This entire set-up looked comfortable, ready to welcome anyone home, at any time. It almost seemed heart-wrenching to pack it away.

“What are you looking at?”

Bokuto walked up to me, his hair hanging in damp tendrils over his forehead, and his cloak wrapped around his bare arms. He looked cold, still, but a lot less stiff than he was just half an hour ago.

I cleared my throat. “Nothing. Was the water alright?”

“It was freezing, but I survived. Spring should be just around the corner at this rate. Thanks for the tunic.”

“No problem.”

He sauntered into the campsite and sat himself on one of the logs as naturally as if he were coming home. Again, he stuck his hands into the fire. I came to sit with him.

“Are you not going back to the caves?”

He shrugged. “Maybe later.”

Something he said last night flashed in my mind. _There’s more to it._ “Bokuto, are you alright?”

“Hm?” His eyes seemed subdued now, but still brilliantly yellow in the morning sun. “Yes, why do you ask?”

“You seem… quiet.” After a pause to steel myself, I added, “Did I do something stupid last night?”

He managed a small smile. “No, you just fell asleep.”

“You wanted to say something, right before I blacked out. What was it?”

He pursed his lips and didn’t look up. After a long, quiet moment, he said, “Akaashi.”

“Yes, sir.”

He took a big sigh, then pulled his hands from the fire. When he held my hands, I felt the warmth of them on my skin.

“Sir Bokuto—”

“You remember what I said last?”

“That there’s more to…” I lifted our hands. “This?”

His brows were crumpled in the middle of his forehead, like he was deep in thought. He stared at our hands as if he were waiting for something to hatch from it.

“I can’t feel warmth,” he said after a long while. He looked like he was trying to solve a riddle. “I can’t, but somehow, whenever I touch your hands, it feels the same as when I put my hands in the fire. If I were asked to describe what warmth feels like, it would be that, or holding your hands.”

I felt my breath catch. “Maybe it’s my curse.”

“Maybe.” This time, he looked up at me. “You have pretty eyes too, Akaashi. Like emeralds. Yes, like newly hewn emeralds.”

Surely one cannot expect to respond intelligently to something like that. He kept staring at me, and if not for the entrancing gold in his eyes, I would have found a way to break off the connection. As it were, he held me captive in more ways than one.

A cough broke the silence in our little clearing. Standing a few steps away was the same dwarf who met with Bokuto at the cave entrance. I yanked my hands away from Bokuto and stood to greet him.

“Good morning, sir.”

The dwarf did no more than spare me a glance. Then he was staring back at Bokuto. There should have been something there: anger, impatience, worry. But his face was just blank as he watched Bokuto get on his feet. Observing him gave me the chills.

“If you keep looking for me like this, Konoha, I’m going to start thinking you care about me.”

“You’re a vital member to my team,” said the dwarf, Konoha, deadpan. “One less pair of hands in a day is a heavy weight to bear for the others.”

Without another word, Konoha turned and left, with the obvious implication that Bokuto should follow behind him.

Bokuto sighed, then looked back at me. “I’ll be back. Will you wait for me?”

For some reason, I found myself nodding. His smile was warm and full of promise before he followed after the other cauldron dwarf. The feel of his hands over mine lingered.

* * *

Days turned into weeks, and into a month, and then some more—still, Bokuto did not return. I kept my little campsite in the woods close to the cave, and it was the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place. I should have moved on the first week he didn’t return, but it pained me to even think of uprooting what little I’ve established of myself here. I’ve unwittingly come to call this small space in the woods my home.

In the first few days without him, I managed to string a rope between two trees, which served as a line to dry fish, and even laundry. I also dug a shallow hole in the ground to build a bigger fireplace, and securely lodged the two half-logs into the dirt to make them more permanent fixtures outside my tent. My hunts grew short, and I was always in a hurry to return, only to be disappointed. I stayed up later in the evenings, looking up at the stars and telling myself that I just couldn’t sleep, but deep down I knew I was waiting for him.

He didn’t come.

And why should he? I was merely a passing companion, a creature who had a higher tolerance for his quirks and charms. He has lived in the caves with those cold cauldron dwarves for more than a century, and he has known me for a single winter. When it came to it, he will stay where he belonged, as much as he could fit in with his clan, and do what he must, what he has always done. As should I.

It was the shortest and warmest of winters I’ve spent alone, but if I could just linger in the warmth of the hearth, the easy laughter of a friend, and the expanse of the sky that now bears witness to his numerous stories, I can remember this particular winter with joy in my heart. I wouldn’t be able to live with a smidge of bitterness, alongside my curse, or I feel as if I’d shrivel up.

The cold, white season slowly melted into a quiet spring, like a big, lazy animal rolling over and blinking into consciousness after a long hibernation. The birds chirping grew in number, and soon their happy songs filled the woods. The flow of the spring grew louder and faster as some distant river began to thaw. The mornings seemed to stretch; they grew a minute longer every day.

And then one morning, when I woke up, I knew we had completely entered into a new season. It was time to move on.

The snow on the mountain still glistened in the light, but it then it never melts all the way through up in the peaks. What was different was the sun: it somehow felt closer, warmer, and more enticing to bask in and let the day flow away. Which was why I had to get up and going.

But I made the mistake of looking around for one last time, and paused. Maybe I could afford one last breakfast. I need to psyche myself up for a hike anyway. It was a long way before the nearest town.

I pulled some dried fish off my clothesline and stabbed them through with sticks to sit over the fire. That brief time of cooking allowed me to start packing away the things in my tent, at least. I took my time, all the while I thought deep in the back of my mind:

_This is your last chance. The moment I leave, I’m never going to look for you again._

But three grilled fish and a packed campsite later, not a word came of him; not even a distant call. I sighed as I hefted my pack behind me and willfully turned away from my little clearing.

_Our little clearing._

If I ever found myself passing by this way again, it would probably look unrecognizable. Just as well.

I started on the trail, but my legs felt heavy. _There was no need to hurry_ , I told myself; the sun would be out just a little longer, and I have time. The woods looked beautiful, an orchestra of bird song, river rush, soft breeze, and trickling sunlight. It would be a shame not to spend more time observing it. The wonders of spring thaw often don’t last very long. One must appreciate it whenever one can.

I walked on and on, and each step took me farther from the campsite, from the cave. The music of the woods surrounded me, as they had many seasons before. I thought to myself:

_I’ve been alone my whole life. I will be alright._

“AGHAAAASHEEEEE!”

I turned abruptly, but there was no one around but the trees and the bushes. Had I heard it wrong? Was my mind so clouded with him that I’m going to start hearing his voice every now and then? I will _not_ stand for this. I turned and walked faster. To hell with nature—I need a great deal of space between me and that clearing as quickly as possible.

“Akaashi! Damn it, slow down!”

He burst through a brush before I could begin to collect myself, but the downhill run sent him crashing right at me. We rolled in a tangle of limbs and clothes and heavy canvas packs until the ground evened out and we lost momentum. The world kept spinning and my ears rang.

When I was sure that I wasn’t rolling down a slope anymore, I took a quick stock of my limbs. Nothing seemed broken, but something heavy pressed on my chest and made it hard to breathe. I seemed to have lost my canvas pack.

“Gods, are you alright? I’m so clumsy, I’m sorry—”

I blinked my eyes into focus, and there was his face: blurry and red and incredibly close. I must have hit my head harder than I thought if I’m starting to see things.

“Akaashi? Oi. Can you hear me? Did he hit his head—”

“Bokuto?”

I reached up, blinking all the while, and gave his cheek a sharp poke. He howled and leaned away, relieving some weight from my chest.

“Ow! What’s that for?”

The world still held a blur around its edges as I recovered from my fall, but there was no mistaking that white-haired cauldron dwarf giving me ferocious glare as he cupped his face. I glared right back.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing? You could’ve killed us both!”

“You were walking so fast! I have short legs, you know!”

I regained a little composure, enough to note a big travelling kit on his back. He was dressed for a journey.

“Were you going somewhere?”

This time, a smile stretched across his face that sent butterflies in my stomach. “I’m going with you, of course!”

“To where?”

“Anywhere. Where are you off to?”

I shook my head. “You must be mistaken. I’m leaving, Sir Bokuto. I’m probably going to a nearby town for refreshment and maybe lodging for the night, but from there on I’m going to keep travelling. It’s sort of what I do.”

“And it’s going to be what I do too, now. Up you go!” He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, then lifted my knapsack and handed it to me. I took it, confused.

“I’m not sure I understand—”

“Look, you almost left me back there. I asked if you would wait, but I may have made you wait a little too long. Some things took longer than I expected, but I’m glad I still caught you!”

“What sort of things? What are you talking about?”

“Akaashi.” He reached up and held me by the elbows, firmly. “The short version is, I’ve severed my ties with the cauldron dwarves, and now I’m free as a ranger to stay with you, or go with you. Whichever works for us.”

“Severed… Why?”

He looked genuinely confused. “Because I want to be with you, of course!”

“Why would you…”

I wasn’t sure if it was because I really did hit my head, but nothing is making sense. His hands slid from my elbows to clasp my hands. He wore no gloves.

“I’m a simple dwarf, Akaashi,” he said, his voice lowering a notch. “My mind is a lot simpler than other dwarves, maybe simpler than most creatures. I know that, at least. But I also know that being with you makes me happy, and I like doing things that make me happy. That’s not a lot of things, as you would know, but I want to start being allowed to feel happy. That starts with being with you.”

He says the most profound things with such simple words, but they make me dumber than a rock. I, quite stupendously, didn’t know what to say. This was the second time he has rendered me speechless, without even trying.

“What do you say, Akaashi?” he asked, gripping my hands tighter when I didn’t reply. “Will you let me go with you?”

“I… I have nothing to offer you. I don’t even have shelter.”

“Yes, you do. You have your tent, and it’s pretty big for one elf.”

“I move around a lot, and people don’t like being with me unless necessary. I can’t keep you from making your friends; that makes you happy too.”

“I can make friends just fine even if you’re around, thank you very much. Maybe you’ll get to make friends too.”

“Sir Bokuto, you can’t—”

“Just tell me one thing, Akaashi,” he cut me off. He stared at me as if he were trying to see into my soul as he held my hands like one would a newborn pup. “Answer me this: do you not like being with me?”

“Of course I do.” The words came out faster than I’d intended. I felt myself flush from my neck to the crown of my head.

He grinned that wide, cheeky grin of his. “Then that settles it. Come on, then. It’s a long hike down this mountain. Thank the spirits spring is here.”

Bokuto took his knapsack of the ground and hoisted it onto his shoulder. He was still holding my other hand, and for once, I didn’t mind so much.

Before we could take another step, he paused. “Ah, I was going to give you something.”

He pulled a chain from around his neck—two chains, from each dangled two smooth stones. One of the gems was a topaz set in gold, and the other was an emerald, set in silver.

“It took a while to find these,” he said as he removed the chains from his neck. “Even longer to make them pretty. It’s part of why I took so long in coming to you. I want to keep the emerald to myself though, since it reminds me of your eyes. Unless you want it.”

I took the topaz from his fingers. It glinted under the sunlight, the way his eyes did when he laughed or told a funny story. My stomach fluttered again, but I lost against the smile that crawled up my face. I curled my fingers around the precious stone.

“No, I’ll keep this one.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this from a headcanon born from Akaashi fiddling with his fingers. A few people have pointed out that he fiddles with his fingers a lot, or keeps his hands behind his back, because he's insecure with his fingers. Whether or not that's canon remains to be said. And since I also play DND, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to give Akaashi a reason for being insecure of his hands, and how Bokuto is the perfect answer for that.
> 
> I hope you liked my baby! Drop a comment and tell me what you think, or maybe leave a kudos as well! Love lots! And as always, keep it chill. ^^


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